Ga-Ga for Gogo
by Themis56
Summary: Is Gogo Daryl? Gasp! Watch as Setzer tries to uncover Gogo's true identity in a series of very ingenious(read:stupid) ways! Pure, unadulterated wackiness abounds.


Ga-Ga for Gogo

Yet another humorous fic by

Themis56

Themis56@aol.com

_For those of you who don't know, there is a rumor about FFVI , almost as old as the game itself, that Gogo is actually Daryl in disguise. And, one day, as I was sitting at my computer, I thought to myself: 'What if I wrote a fic about the Gogo/Daryl mystery and then butcher it up completely with tons and tons of zaniness?' Such a crazy scheme just might have worked! Thus, this fic was born._

A few things about the story: Although you don't need to read my previous work Edgar's Quest for Luv, _there are some references back to it, and this fic's time line runs directly with the former. Thus, Edgar and Terra are married, and other such things._

Once again, I have buggered up the characters completely; if there're two characters that have any shred of dignity left, they're Terra and Cyan. Terra, being less prone to silliness, usually stays out of the wackiness, and I spare Cyan simply because, although unpopular in most circles, he's my second favorite character _in the game and I can't bear to see his honor slandered._ _And as for Daryl; I wrote this fic based on the assumption that Daryl's body was never found when Setzer located the wreck of the Falcon._

Furthermore, Setzer spits out quite a bit of Italian in this piece; sometimes I'll translate the more important parts, but don't let it get to you. The Italian stuff doesn't tell anything truly important.

_Readers also may get the impression that I don't like Locke; this is false. I LOVE Locke. I just enjoy putting him through extremely degrading scenarios; he just sets himself up for it, you know?_

One final note, and then I'll leave you alone: this is a very, very SILLY fic, so silly that it may actually turn out to be horribly, horribly dumb. I rely much more on physical humor in this fic, and I don't know whether that's a good thing or now. So be warned. Only read this if you're in a really, really goofy mood. Proceed at your own risk.

Themis56

And also: Setzer and other related characters are property of Square.

Chapter 1: How to Scare the Bejeezus out of Someone

"He soars through the air with the greatest of eeeaase! It's the sexy rich man on his flying...uh...um...ship of whoop-eeee!" 

The celebrated airship, the Falcon, suddenly performed a perfect nose-dive as if to punctuate the end of the little song of its pilot, and made a bee-line straight for the spiraling parapets of Figaro Castle. The sentries positioned on the towers whipped their heads up at the sound of motors roaring, dropped their jaws in surprise, and then started to scramble madly to duck, to run, to run back down into the interior of the castle, to do anything! In their haste, the hysterical guards managed to bump into, trip, and accidentally poke each other several times; soon, the once-orderly soldiers were mashed into the biggest, noisiest dog-pile the world had ever seen.

Setzer Gabbiani, world-famous gambler and pilot, one of the fourteen Heroes, the snazziest dresser alive and overall sex god, looked down at the results of his little prank and grinned. He did so love making a stir.

The gambler gently eased his craft down into a soft landing; as he quickly put away all of the landing gear, Setzer noticed the King of Figaro, Edgar, and his lovely wife of just four months, Terra, emerging from the front gates of the castle. Edgar looked a bit more than slightly miffed; Terra had a warm smile on her face, as always; both appeared somewhat rattled, with some traces of shock still clinging to them. 

"Hello, Setzer!" Terra shouted up at him, waving a vaguely trembling arm.

"Damn you, Gabbiani!!!" came her husband's slightly less joyous greeting. "Can't you _ever_ come here without needlessly terrorizing my subjects?! This is the fourth time in two months!"

"Oh, but _signor,_ your people needed something to shake 'em up a little! Keeps away monotony. Hell, in _this_ Godforsaken dump, I think they'd appreciate the chance for some excitement! I'm surprised they all haven't died of boredom." Setzer returned, exiting from the airship.

"Say, Setz," Edgar baited, a sneer twisting his face, "are you ever going to take those Italian courses that I told you about, you polyglot impostor?"

"As a matter of fact, I have!" Setzer retorted with no small amount of pride. "I am now fluent, not just a mere amateur! Not only am I a master of airships, I'm now a master of the language of love! Aren't you proud of me, _mia amici?"_

"Definitely. But you still gave us all quite a scare. The kids thought the world was coming to an end. For shame, Setzer!" Terra scolded with a smile in her deep green eyes; Setzer merely grinned back, bowed on one knee before her, took her hand, and started to cover it with kisses.

POW!!

Before he even knew what was going on, Setzer found himself lying on his back with an extremely irate Edgar looming over him. A strange contraption that looked like a boxing glove attached to a giant spring, which had been tightly coiled but now was flopping in the gusts of the desert wind, lay in Edgar's hands.

"Setz, allow me to introduce you to a new friend of mine. It doesn't have a name quite yet, but if you ever do that again, I think I'll name it the Setzer-Squasher 2000. Catchy, no?"

Setzer stifled a gulp in his suddenly parched throat and nodded meekly; Edgar smiled, coiled up the contraption, put it away somewhere within the fathoms of his cape, and then finally extended a hand to help the floored gambler to his feet.

"Edgar, don't threaten the guests!" Terra chided, casting her husband a withering glance as she turned to Setzer and said in a much kinder voice, "Don't mind him; he's still angry from the shock you gave us. Don't do it again! How dare you scare my little darlings! But, as long as you're here, come in and make yourself at home."

She took the gambler's arm in one hand and her husband's in the other and escorted them into the castle. Edgar gave Setzer a nasty glance; in return, Setzer merely smiled wickedly.

Chapter 2: A Devilish Deception

Later evening, Setzer was slumped languidly at the castle cafe's bar, sipping noncommittally at his little shot glass of whisky. 

Truth be told, Setzer was jealous. Earlier at supper, he had seen the tender glances between Edgar and Terra, the way they would surreptitiously hold hands beneath the table, how there always was a special glimmer to the smiles they shared between them.

'It's not FAIR!' Setzer moped mentally. 'I'm the sexiest man alive! Locke, Edgar, Sabin...none of 'em can hope to compare with my swankiness, my devil-may-care nature, my beautiful scarred visage! But who gets all the chicks falling for him? Locke, the thief who wears Godawful leather pants! And who has the _bella _Terra as his wife? Edgar, the Romantically-Deficient! Even Sabin, a man whose IQ must be thirty, has the _signoras_ forming a line to watch him flex!'

The more Setzer thought about it, the more agitated he grew. _Everyone_ was in a happy relationship except for him: Locke had found new happiness with Celes, who had reformed her rather abusive ways by attending the Center of Treatment for Spousal Bitchiness; Edgar had Terra, a very sweet woman; even Cyan, a man who looked as if he had been beaten by an ugly stick, had been happily remarried to a girl from Maranda named Lola.

But Setzer had no-one. He was alone...alone...

"ALONE!! So alone!!" Setzer wailed in a marvelous ecstasy of self-pity. All of the patrons in the cafe turned their heads towards the not quite sober gambler.

"I'm practicing for a play! Now stop looking at me!" Setzer snapped, casting evil glances all around him; the patrons started to snicker as they returned to their business. The gambler pouted over his whiskey. What did any of those losers know about loneliness? Ever since Daryl disappeared all those years back, he never felt complete. He missed her laugh, her free spirit, and her sense of adventure; no-one else had had the same love of flying as he except for her.

But now Daryl was gone...or _was_ she? 

After a few more minutes, Edgar walked into the cafe, looking a bit tired--he must have had a long day, what with airship attacks and diplomatic stuff and all the other crud Kings have to deal with.

"Hey, Ed! Over here! Let me buy you a drink, _signor._ You look like you need it!" Setzer beckoned and indicated a vacant stool next to him with his head. Edgar immediately sprung on the offer.

"Thanks, Setz, but remember: I am the KING! I can get my drinks for free," Edgar smirked. "Barkeep! A glass of wine, please!"

When the King had been served his drink, Setzer made his move.

"Say, Edgar, I've been thinking..."

"Hey hey hey!! Whassup?!" a new voice interrupted; Setzer stifled a groan as that overgrown beefcake wanna-be, Sabin, suddenly barged in, a wide smile on his goofy face. 

"Hi, Sabin," both men grunted without the slightest trace of enthusiasm in their voices.

"Didja you guys hear about the karate competition last week? Man, let me tell ya..." Sabin prattled on, blissful in his obviousness; he talked about his karate competitions, _training_ for karate competitions, _beating_ _up_ other martial artists in karate competitions...the list went on and on and on.

"Ed, I really have to talk with you," Setzer whispered to the King beside him.

"Yes, yes, _anything!_ Let's just get away from this freak," Edgar whispered back, his eyes slightly glazed and his voice furitive.

"Don't you worry. I'll get rid of him," Setzer responded, a sly smile twitching on his lips. He then jerked his head up, widened his eyes, and stared at something past Sabin's shoulder that no-one else could see.

"Hey, Sabin! Look over there," Setzer pointed to absolutely nothing, just the wall at the far end of the room; still, Sabin, being no rocket scientist, whipped his head around.

"What? What is it? What am I supposed to be seeing? All I see is a wall..." the martial artist grunted, squinting his eyes. 

While Sabin was preoccupied with figuring out the 'mystery' of the wall, Setzer surreptitiously paid for his drink and stealthily led Edgar out the back door of the cafe.

"Setzer, are you sure...?" Sabin turned to face the gambler, only to find that Setzer and Edgar were no longer beside him. The beefcake had a blank expression plastered all over his face for a few long moments, then simply shrugged.

"Oh, well. And now back to the wall!"

Chapter 3: The Mime Conspiracy!

"Well, Setzer, what do you want to talk to me about?" Edgar sighed, flopping on top of a wooden chest, swinging his legs absent-mindedly. The two men had ducked into a small storage closet, mostly to prevent anyone from eavesdropping on them, but partly they knew they would need a secure place to hide when Sabin realized he had been duped.

"Okay, Ed, I'll cut straight to the chase. I'm lonely, all right? I don't want to spend the rest of my life without experiencing love again," Setzer stated.

"What do you mean, Setz? Everybody loves you! Heck, even though you're a pain in the ass sometimes, I love you almost as much as my own brother. Why are you lonely?"

"It's not that, Ed. You guys are the best friends a man can have. What I mean to say...I...I...want a girlfriend..."

"What?! Speak louder," Edgar frowned, leaning forward.

"I want a girlfriend, okay?!"

"That shouldn't be a problem! You have women climbing all over you. Thousands and thousand of fangirls!"

"No, no, NO!! Not just _any_ girl...I want Daryl," Setzer sputtered, his scars growing beet red.

"I thought she was dead! Man, Setz, don't be trying anything...creepy, okay?"

"Edgar, please! Yeah, I thought she was dead myself, but now...I'm having doubts," Setzer mumbled, more to himself than to Edgar, gnawing on his perfectly manicured fingernails; his head suddenly jerked up, his eyes were alight, and then he continued in a febrile whisper, "Ed, I think that Gogo is Daryl."

A moment of silence pervaded the air; neither of the men even had the audacity to breathe.

Then, as soon as it had come, the moment ended.

"BWA-HAHAHAHAHA!!!!" Edgar threw back his golden head and howled, just howled up at the ceiling. After he had regained his composure somewhat, the King simply giggled and wiped away the torrents of water streaming down his face with one hand while slapping his thigh with the other.

"Oh, man, Setz, that's rich! Real rich. You almost had me fooled there, for a moment."

"I was being _serious!!" _Setzer snapped, his voice raising a few octaves. He thought of giving Edgar a good choking right then and there.

The King looked as if a thunderbolt had struck him; his jaw dropped slightly.

"You really _are_ serious, aren't you? You actually think that stupid mime is your long-dead girlfriend?"

"Yes."

"Hee hee hee hee--ERK!" The King of Figaro's tittering was abruptly cut off by Setzer, who had clamped his hands around Edgar's throat. One of the gambler's eyes was twitching slightly.

"All right, _Ed,_ listen to me very carefully. I've got some evidence that Gogo might be Daryl. It may not be much, but it's all I got. _Ascota(_listen)_: _Daryl crash-landed on a distant land, right? She was never seen again. But why? You and I both have survived airship crashes; why not Daryl? She was tough. And why didn't she come back to me after crashing? Because she landed on Triangle Island, and _maybe a Zone-Eater_ _got ahold of her! _Are you getting this, Edgar? Should I write it down for you?"

"Hardly!" Edgar squeaked, thrashing wildly at the hands around his throat; his face was turning an unseemly purple color. Setzer then released his grip, making Edgar suck in air with a sound not unlike a vacuum cleaner.

"All right, let's just say that Gogo is Daryl. Why are you telling me this?" Edgar inquired, massaging the marks on his neck.

"I need your help, Ed. I've got a plan to unmask our friend Gogo; it'll only work if you cooperate with me. Please, Ed! Remember, I've helped you in the past..." Setzer explained, trailing off with a meaningful arch of one of his silver eyebrows.

"Setzer, your advice did nothing to help me get Terra! In fact, she _slapped_ me when I went by your little 'method.' Still, you did have good intentions. I'll help you any way I can," Edgar acquiesced with a surly little smile.

"_Grazie, grazie!"_ Setzer breathed, taking Edgar by the arm and whispering into his ear. "Here's what you've gotta do. I want you to arrange a nice little reunion..."

After an hour of whispering and going over plans, the two men emerged from the storage closet, knowing smiles on their faces.

Operation: Mime Exposure would commence tomorrow.

Chapter 4: Splashes, Sunscreen, and Speedoes

(Note to the weak-stomached among us: read this chapter at your own risk)

"Are they all here?" Setzer whispered to Edgar from behind the dressing room door; the faint sounds of laughter and chattering wafted in from the outside.

"For the last time, YES! The guard counted all eleven guests. Calm down, Setzer. Now, shall we greet our old comrades?" Edgar smirked, adjusting the belt of his robe. Both men were wearing fuzzy cotton bathrobes over their swim trunks.

"_Si,_" Setzer nodded, a fierce gleam taking shape in the center of each pupil, walking through the door as he ran his fingers luxuriously through his loverly silver hair, the hair that made chicks _go wild._

Outside, a great gathering of famous heroes was taking place; everybody except Edgar and Setzer had met for a little reception before the little swim party, all of them catching up on old times, making fun of each other, and basically whooping it up.

"Hey, guys! Let me welcome you all to Figaro for our first real reunion in two years! Where does the time go, eh?" Edgar advanced regally towards the crowd, opening his arms expansively as if to draw everyone in the room into an embrace.

"Edgar!!" the collective cry rose from the small throng as old friends descended upon the young King and smothered him with greetings, hugs, and other sentimental crud that Setzer didn't care for.

After Edgar had been gushed over sufficiently, Setzer was finally noticed.

"Setzer!! Long time no see! GAUU!!" Gau, the wild boy from the Veldt, howled, practically throwing himself on the gambler in his glee. Setzer smiled gingerly at the hyperactive boy and, with no small deal of trouble, managed to pry himself away without gagging. Despite the fact that both Sabin and Cyan had attempted to cultivate the brat into civilized society, Gau was still as boorish, grammatically incorrect, and smelly as ever. The little imp didn't even wear fashionable clothes or appreciate opera--fatal flaws, in Setzer's opinion. Well, that was what happened when you lived for fourteen years on the Veldt. Although the wild boy was not living out in the wild any longer--he lived in Thamasa--there was no taking the Veldt out of him. Pity, that.

"Well, Setzer, it's been a while. Still as cocky as ever, I see. I'll never understand your generation..." Strago grumbled, poking Setzer in the side with a cane and slapping the gambler's back simultaneously.

"Hey, old man, don't give yourself a heart attack when we start swimming, okay? Don't want you to overstrain your feeble old body, do we?" Setzer grinned at the aged figure before him. Setzer didn't mind Strago all that much, even though the old coot could be a real nuisance sometimes. The little man thought he was just as spry and able as he had been fifty years ago; that attitude was just pathetic, coming from a feeble, wizened geezer like Strago--the man could hardly lift up his cane. But the thing about Strago that utterly annoyed the hell out of Setzer was the old man's _heinous_ fashion sense.

As he gazed at Strago, the gambler felt like puking. The man was wearing a goddamn _mohawk,_ a hairstyle that old codgers should be permanently prohibited from donning. Age spots covered Strago's scalp; Setzer didn't know whether to gag or play connect-the-dots with them.

And his clothes! Horrible, utterly horrible baggy things, all pea greens and oranges and blacks. YECH. They may have been fashionable when the geezer was about fifteen years old or so, but now that style was way out of vogue. Dark, crisp, elegantly tailored clothes were all the rage now! As Setzer looked all around him, he noticed that every single man, with perhaps the exception of Edgar, was a walking fashion disaster. It made him want to scream. Was he the _only_ swanky man among them?

Edgar's voice cut through all of the introductions and banter.

"Well, what're we waiting for? Men, you can change in that dressing room over there. Ladies, Terra will guide you to your changing stalls. Locke, come back here! I told you, no stealing any ladies' underwear from the women's room, _and I **mean** it!_ Have you no chivalry?" 

"Hmmph!" the thief huffed, turning away. "Some party _this_ turned out to be." As she passed him, Celes gave Locke a good punch in the arm.

"Ow! Celes, remember your therapy!" the treasure-hunter yelped, rubbing at his wounded arm. His wife only stuck her tongue out at him and flounced a shoulder in dismissal; Locke shrugged and sulkily made his way into the dressing room.

"And as for you four," Setzer informed Mog, Umaro, Shadow, and Gogo, who were hesitating in the middle of the room, "Umaro and Mog can just stay out here and wait. And what about you, Shadow? Don't you want to swim?"

"..." Shadow simply stared straight at Setzer, his eyes seeming to say _what kind of idiot are you?_

"Shadow? I said, 'don't you want to swim?" Setzer frowned; that stupid antisocial ninja was so obstinately _odd_ sometimes!

"...."

"Shaa--dow! Hellooo! Anybody home?" Setzer waved a hand right in front of the ninja's face; Shadow gave no sign.

"Oh, screw him. The guy's a total bore. You could slap him silly, and he still wouldn't give you an answer. Why do I even bother? I knew we shouldn't have invited him," the gambler muttered, turning to Gogo, "Gogo, we've got a special place for you to change. Come with me."

"Hey, waitaminute, kupo!" Mog squeaked in protest, thrusting out a small bag in his paw, "I've gotta change, too! I'll just be a minute."

"I didn't know Moogles wore swimsuits," Setzer remarked, a bit surprised. 

"Then you're just a lowbrow idiot! _Of_ course we Moogles wear swimsuits!"

"Why?"

"Why _not_, kupo?" the Moogle looked to grow progressively irked as this strange conversation continued.

"Don't piss him off, Setz," Edgar whispered. "Whatever you do, _do NOT piss him off!_ You saw what he did to Sabin last time."

"Okay, okay!" Setzer balked, raising his palms in a conciliatory manner, "_Perdono_, Mog. Just change and have a good time, okay?"

"Wise man," the Moogle sniffed as he fluttered past the two men, soon disappearing into the living room.

"Gogo, the special stall we've got for you is right over here," Setzer jerked his head towards a door a little ways off to the side of the men's dressing room, indicating that the mime should follow his lead; Gogo complied without a sound, letting Setzer guide him/her to a small stall. Edgar followed them at a respectful distance. 

"All right, Gogo, here we are. It locks from the inside," Setzer politely opened the door for his guest; Gogo entered without a sound. 

The gambler gave Edgar a terse nod, the agreed upon signal that the King should begin to leave the hall. Edgar then pulled out a strange device from his cape, a contraption that looked like two stilts with feet-like appendages attached, and started tapping it along the ground as he walked away. Even though only Edgar was walking, it sounded like the footsteps of two men; this would allay any suspicions of Gogo's that he/she was being spied on.

While Edgar was playing his part, Setzer knelt down next to the outer wall of the stall and pressed his eye up against a finely drilled hole--Edgar's handiwork. It was not so small as to make looking into the stall difficult, but it wasn't so large as to make Gogo suspect he/she was being watched.

Setzer was so silent that he wasn't even breathing. He saw Gogo standing in the stall, the mime's head turning warily in all directions. Then he/she reached up with gloved hands and began to remove the first layer of cloth from his/her turban...

"WHEEEE! I'm gonna getcha!!"

Setzer jerked himself to his feet and turned quickly around, his eyes blazing with murderous intentions and his teeth grinding as he quietly hissed every curse he knew--in both languages. But when he saw the sight before him, his eyes lost their fire and his jaw dropped about ten feet to the ground.

There, running down the hallway, were Strago, Gau, and Mog. Although Gau was wearing a pair of furry, genuine monster-hide swim trunks, Mog and Strago...were...were...

_THEY WERE BOTH WEARING SPEEDOES!_

Indeed, it was as plain as the scars on Setzer's face: Strago was wearing absolutely nothing except the thinnest black speedo the world had ever seen, and Mog was similarly attired, save that _his_ speedo was pink.

Strago was currently chasing Mog and Gau up and down the hall, snapping a towel playfully at them, giggling all the while. 

Seeing Strago's elderliness in all its antique glory was simply too much for the poor Setzer to cope with; the gambler leaned weakly up against the wall, covering his eyes with a palm. Horrid images of an almost buck-naked Strago, _running_, made Setzer wish for one second that Kefka had actually succeeded in frying the world.

After running up and down the hall for a minute, the horrible little entourage exited out the door, probably heading for the castle's indoor pool. A few seconds later, the door to the stall creaked open; Setzer ducked behind the door.

Gogo, although he had obviously changed clothes, was wearing a full-body diving suit, the kind that was puffy and had the helmet with the steel grate covering the face.

Setzer cursed again under his breath. Those three _pazzi_(loonies) had ruined his chance to see if Gogo was truly his beloved Daryl or not! The idiots! 

"Okay, Gabbiani, don't lose your cool. You are the unflappable gambler; you _never_ show your anger. It's not good for a gambler to show anything..." Setzer coached himself, breathing deeply.

After a few more deep breaths, Setzer regained his composure and made his way towards the pool. He would have to try again.

Chapter 5: Locke Lends a Larcenous Hand(sort of).

When Setzer arrived at the castle's indoor pool, everybody was already occupied with some form of leisure or another. Sabin, Gau, Umaro, and Mog were playing a rousing and noisy game of water polo; Edgar, Terra, and the kids were simply floating around the pool and chatting amongst themselves; Celes had pushed Locke into the pool and was now laughing at him as he flailed in the water; Cyan, dressed in very modest swimming clothing, a white shirt and shorts, was simply letting his legs dangle in the water and observed the others; Relm, Shadow, and Gogo both were standing a good ways off from the pool, all obviously sulking, though Shadow's gaze seemed riveted upon Relm. As for Strago...well, no-one wanted to look at Strago, so who knew what he was doing?

Setzer glanced around idly at the scene for a moment, but then his eyes rested upon the floundering Locke, and a shadow of a plan started to form in his brain...

"Hey, Locke! You having a bit of trouble, _amico? _Here, take these!" Setzer approached the treasure hunter and threw down a pair of waders that one of the kids had left near the side of the pool. Locke somehow managed to get the waders onto his arms without drowning, and soon he was safely afloat..

"Thanks, Setz. I wish I could repay you somehow," Locke said, obviously very grateful.

"Actually, there is a way you could," Setzer smiled wryly, the idea in his brain going wild, "if you were up to it."

"Heck, yeah! Anything for you, Setz."

"Good. Meet me outside the dressing rooms when everybody's finished, okay?" 

Setzer walked away and found a place where he could be all by himself; then he let out an evil, evil laugh of anticipation. Daryl was about to be unmasked!

**********

"Are you sure this will work?" Setzer hissed to Locke, trying not to sneeze from the coats of dust that covered the large support rafter. Both men were lying prone; the wooden beam was so thick and wide that it concealed them perfectly.

"Positive. Now shut up before we get caught!" Locke hissed in response; Setzer immediately took the advice and buttoned his lip.

"Look! She...I mean, it's coming! Ready?" Setzer broke his silence a few minutes hence as Gogo exited his stall and began to walk down the corridor.

"Yes. Now be quiet and let me work!" Locke whispered as his hands grasped even more tightly around a long fishing pole. A large, very sharp looking hook was attacked to the end of the clear plastic line of the pole.

Just as Gogo passed underneath them, Locke silently cast the line with an expert aim, snagging the top of the mime's veils without Gogo noticing a thing.

A few seconds later, Setzer learned that Locke was far more agile and cunning than strong. For the veils were quite a bit thicker and heavier than anticipated, and Gogo's brisk pace gave him/her quite a lot of tug power, so that, try as though he might, Locke was unable to reel in the line and remove the mime's head coverings. 

The pull was _so_ powerful that Locke suddenly got yanked over the edge of the rafter, still clinging desperately to his pole.

"AAAAA!"

Setzer grimaced slightly when the sound of Locke's impact upon the stone floor reached his ears. The gambler peeped over the edge of the beam.

Gogo, obviously panicked by the treasure hunter's abrupt arrival, started to dash away as fast as he/she could. The hook was still embedded in the cloth of Gogo's veils, so that Locke was suddenly gliding over the floor, smacking into walls and corners as the mime pulled him along.

"Stooop! Gogoooo, stoooopp!" Locke's voice was a mere echo as he was towed far away; Setzer spat out a few obscenities and smacked his hand against the beam. Why didn't he recruit Shadow for this job? The ninja may have been a surly, antisocial loser, but at least he was _competent._

After his initial rage had subsided, Setzer sat up and pulled out his pack of playing cards; a game of solitaire usually cheered him up.

As he placed the cards out before him, yet another idea formed in Setzer's brain. A grim smile broke the gambler's face. It was now time for him to fight on his own terms.

Chapter Six: The Cards are Dealt, and the Stakes are Really, Really High

Setzer bided his time, carefully formulating his plan; he didn't make another move until some time after supper, when all of the heroes were lounging about in the castle game room.

"I have an idea," Setzer spoke up, drawing everyone's attention. "How about a game of poker? Anyone?"

"Sounds like a lark. Count me in," Sabin announced as he came forward and seated himself at the card table.

"I might as well, since Sabin's playing," Edgar sighed, drawing his seat up.

"You men had better watch out," Celes grinned wickedly as she took a chair, "when I was in the Imperial Army, all we ever _did_ was play cards. You'll all be eating it, and soon!"

"Yeah, right, Cel," Setzer scoffed before turning to the others. "Come on, we need one more player! Anyone? Anyone? Hey, Gogo, why don't you join us?"

"I guess," Gogo shrugged apathetically, his/her voice neutral as ever; the mime slowly took a chair.

"All right," Setzer grinned in triumph, dealing out the cards. "Now, I must warn you guys: you've all promised to play, and there's no backing out!"

"Understood. Just deal out the chips, man!" Sabin barked, cracking his knuckles; Setzer wasn't intimidated.

"Ah, my uncouth companion, you don't understand. There will be no chips in this game. You know why? Because I declare this a game of _strip poker!!_"

A loud whoop sounded out from the others, who immediately turned their attention towards the game, which had suddenly become very interesting; Gogo trembled with an ill-concealed shudder, but made no move to leave.

"Man, if I knew that it was going to be strip poker, I'd have volunteered," Strago grumbled, leaning on his cane heavily in his disappointment.

"You sick old man! That's it! When we get back to Thamasa, I'm gonna put you in a home!" Relm snapped, punching the old man in the arm.

"Sir Setzer, if ye will pardon me, I shall repair to the main hall. Such wicked vulgarity doth make me shudder," Cyan snapped curtly as he strode out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him. Shadow, not finding any humor in the situation as usual, stalked out without a word.

"Ah, well. What're you gonna do, huh? Those guys don't know how to have fun," Setzer shrugged off Cyan and Shadow's reactions dismissively. "Now let's all play some poker!"

*********

'Once again, my brilliant plot fails!' Setzer cursed as he stared at the pathetic hand he had: two measly three cards. And, if you looked slightly past the cards and over the edge of the table, one would have seen that Setzer was wearing nothing except his socks and a pair of smiley-faced boxer shorts. Sabin and Edgar were similarly attired; a large pile of clothing was split up between Celes, who had only lost her white cape to Gogo, and Gogo him/herself, who had lost just a few layers of clothing from what seemed an endless supply. 

"Ha! Read 'em and weep, fellas!" Celes crowed, slamming down her four aces triumphantly, eliciting groans from the three near buck-naked men at the table.

"Come on!" she snapped. "You know the rules! Pay up!"

Very slowly, Setzer peeled off one of his socks, as did Sabin and Edgar; Gogo nonchalantly unwound one of his/her veils and handed it over.

"That's it! This game is over!" Terra suddenly interrupted, her face livid; she obviously did not like the fact that Edgar was exposing so much skin in mixed company.

"Thanks a million, dear," Edgar smiled at his wife while he started to scramble back into his clothes.

"You're still sleeping on the couch, buster. I don't know why I even let you play the stupid game in the first place," Terra turned around and stomped out of the room, Edgar tailing her and begging her forgiveness.

'He is _so_ whipped,' Setzer grumbled to himself as he petulantly made himself decent once more, practically clawing at his clothes as viciously squeezed his body into them.

When he was dressed, the gambler left the room, but he quickly hid himself behind the door, pressing himself closely up against the wall. His teeth gnashed slightly. He was through with playing these stupid games. He _was_ going to know if Gogo was Daryl, even if it killed him.

"I swear," he murmured inaudibly to himself, "after all I've been through, I'd better not be disappointed."

Chapter Seven: Setzer Gets Disappointed

or: The Setzer-Smasher to the Rescue!

Setzer only had to wait a few minutes before Gogo exited the game room; then, with a graceful, swift pounce, the gambler had the mime pinned up against the wall in a hold that was painless but allowed for no chance of escape.

"What?! Setzer, what's wrong with you? Have I done something--" Gogo sputtered, wriggling in vain under Setzer's grasp.

"Damn it, Gogo," Setzer growled softly, "I've tried every decent way I know to uncover your identity, but you just _had_ to have a perverted sense of personal privacy. Don't you know that nowadays that there _is_ no such thing as personal privacy? Why don't you just give it up and admit who you are, Gogo? Or, should I say..._Daryl?" _With those words, Setzer reached up, seized the top of Gogo's veils, and yanked them all off in one fell swoop. 

"_OH, MAMA MIA!! _You're...you're Emperor Goose-Stall!!"

"Gestahl! My name is Gestahl!" snapped the old ex-regent, his voice that same old and dry cackle. "And yes, it is I!"

"_MALEDETTO(_Damn you)_!! _You crazy old coot, how did you survive that fall from the Floating Continent?" Setzer demanded, shaking the wizened man very hard.

"When I fell, I fell straight for Triangle Island. But just as I fell to earth, a great Zone Eater emerged from a rift caused by the imbalance of the Three Goddesses. It swallowed me whole. And the rest is history...as soon you will be! Mwa-ha-ha!! MERTON!!!"

Nothing happened, absolutely nothing. Setzer merely snickered and rolled his eyes as he released the old, little man from his grip. Not only was Gestahl crazy, he had gone senile; didn't the old geezer remember that magic was dead?

"Curses!" Gestahl snapped, slapping his forehead as he realized the obvious.

"I'd say. Geez, old man, why did you fight with us so long if you still hate us all so much? The Empire's dead," Setzer snorted in contempt, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall; what did he have to fear from this old coot who was even crazier than Strago?

Actually, quite a bit. Gestahl gave the gambler a good, hard knee in the groin, a pretty powerful blow for such a decrepit wreck of a man.

"Because I wanted revenge against Kefka for ruining my ambitions, you moron! And now...you will take a long snooze, just as Leo and Kefka before you! No-one shall stand in my way of reviving my Empire!" Gestahl snarled, snatching a dagger from his mime's robes and raising his hand to drive the weapon home. Setzer squeezed his eyes shut and awaited the fatal blow.

SPRRROINGGG!!

Setzer frowned; daggers cutting into human flesh generally didn't make that sound. He looked up, just in time to see a single boxing club attached to a coil smack the Emperor in his 104-year-old face and take the old guy down.

"Edgar...?" Setzer inquired hopefully, peering into the inky darkness of the ill-lit corridor.

"No..." a steely, emotionless voice responded; Shadow silently stepped out of the darkness, as if part of the wall had come animated, the Setzer-Smasher 2000 in his hands.

"Shadow...why?"

"The old man cheated me out my pay once, if you'll remember. He also tried to off me, but that's not important. The only thing that mattered was the money, and he never gave it to me. The bastard. Oh, and I guess I didn't want you to die, though I wouldn't have been utterly crushed, either."

"Um...thank you, I guess..."

"Keep your thanks. I think something more tangible is in order."

With a reluctant hand and a heavy heart, Setzer reached into his overcoat and handed the mercenary ninja twenty gold pieces, gold which disappeared in the twinkling of an eye from the gambler's palm into Shadow's pouch.

"Here," Shadow shoved the SS-2000 into its namesake's hands. "Give this back to Edgar. It was just lying around, propped up next to a wall in the hall. He needs to take better care of his oh-so-precious tools."

"Why didn't you use one of your knives or skeans? It'd have been more...professional," Setzer's brow furrowed in stupefaction as he gingerly accepted the weapon.

"A ninja must be the master of his own environment. The thing was just lying around, so I took advantage of it. Also, I thought it'd be a novelty; I sure as hell had fun smacking the coot with it. Well, I have served my purpose...The Reaper is always one step behind me, yadda yadda yadda." Shadow shrugged, melting back into the darkness from which he came, leaving Setzer alone in the corridor. After a slight pause, the gambler made his way down to the main hall, where all of his old comrades-in-arms were congregated.

"Hey, Setzer! Why the long face, eh?" Edgar greeted, slapping his casino-dwelling friend heartily on the back.

"_Niente(_Nothing)_._ It's just that Emperor Gestahl, who was Gogo, is alive and well, except that Shadow clobbered him with this stupid invention of yours, and now he's lying on his ugly yellow face on the floor in that hall back there," Setzer sighed, pressing the tool back into Edgar's hands.

"I think," Edgar mused aloud deliberately and slowly, "that a new name is in order for this baby. Hmmm...let's see...Emperor Eradicator 2000, the Gestahl Grinder 2000, the Tyrant Terminator..."

"What, the foul fiend yet liveth amongst us?!" Cyan thundered, grasping at his Sky Render. "Lead me on, Sir Setzer! I shall dispatch the worm and purge the world of a great evil!"

"Cy, relax. The old guy's out for the count," Setzer reassured. "And don't worry. We'll get rid of him without having to lift a sword. Strago, I want you to revive our former Gogo and parade that speedo getup"--here Relm let out a howl of anguish--"right in his face for a good five minutes. Let's give the bastard some torture first. Then, Gau, I want you to take ol' Gestahl and put him on the Veldt, and call a herd of SrBehemoths. Let's see how he likes _that!"_

"Wouldn't that be more work than just offing the old tyrant?" Celes muttered darkly, fingering her sword.

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that? That bastard deserves the worst. He deceived me, deceived all of us. Let 'im suffer first! You're going soft, Cel," Setzer pointed out, a bitter laugh escaping his throat.

"Hmmm. I see your point," Celes nodded in satisfaction.

"Wait, kupo!" Mog interjected, flying up and halting at a hover in front of Setzer's face. "While the bozo is still out for the count, I'd like to...practice a bit on him."

"Huh?!"

"Well...Ever since I helped Ed here get Terra, I've discovered that I want to be a beauty-shop worker, kupo," Mog confessed, lowering his sweet big eyes demurely. "And I need practice. I won't do much. Maybe a dab of rouge or two, a bit of perfume, some nice pink ribbons in his hair and beard. You know, simple stuff. No braids or anything."

"Hell, Moogle, go right on ahead! Have at it! You'll probably make him look better, make him more attractive to the animals. It'll get him eaten faster," Setzer chuckled, nodding his head in approval of the lark.

"KUPO!! Thank ya, Setz! You may be a dork and homely as a chocobo's butt, but you're a keen guy. I'm gonna go to one of the maids' chambers and steal some supplies," Mog yipped, zooming off as fast as his dinky pink wings could carry him. "Hee hee! You old coot, this little Moogle will dance sooo sweetly for you!!"

"You two better go on ahead and make sure Gestahl doesn't come to and try to escape before Mog gets to him," Setzer advised Strago and Gau. The two nodded in understanding and left the room.

"Well, _ciao_, everyone," the gambler continued, bowing gracefully to the remainder of his friends in the room. "I'm going for a walk. I need to be alone for a while."

"Oh, Setzer, I know much it hurts when you get your hopes up and then have them killed," Terra condoled, hugging him tightly and giving him a light kiss on the cheek.

"Yeah," Setzer grinned wryly, "it does hurt, doesn't it?"

Still, he _was_ a true gambler at heart; and true gamblers never cried in public.

Chapter Eight: The Stupidest Plot Contrivance Yet

A few days later, Setzer knelt before the delicately carved door of Daryl's tomb, propping up a bouquet of fresh red roses against the cool, smooth stone.

"Oh, Daryl, _mio tesoro_(my treasure), I really shouldn't have gotten my hopes up, huh? It's not the gambler's way to get confident unless he's absolutely certain of the odds...But, damn, I miss you so..." Setzer heaved a tremulous sigh, a single tear tricking down the side of his nose as he patted the sepulcher's entrance, letting his hand rest against the hard marble.

Suddenly, the door of the tomb jerked open with a drawn-out screeching sound; Setzer, losing his balance, suddenly flopped head over heels smack on his face into the ground.

After lying utterly stunned for a brief moment, Setzer raised up his head, spitting out grass; he made as if to speak, but then he was struck utterly dumb.

'_Daryl!?'_

Indeed, it could have been no other than she; although the woman standing before him was clad in dusty, torn, and decaying clothing, and every inch of her exposed skin was absolutely enveloped in cobwebs, grime, and dust, he still would have recognized her anywhere. Her eyes were still just as deep blue and clear as ever, her grimy hair flashed the familiar orange color through the dirt, and her face was still was alert and saucy.

Daryl did not appear to have noticed Setzer; she was preoccupied with blinking rapidly in the bright sunlight, rubbing at her eyes, and cursing a blue streak about her filthy clothes, her missing airship, and other trivial matters.

"DARYL!"

Starting a little, Daryl looked down at him, her face devoid of any expression at first, but then a sparkle of recognition flare up in her eyes.

"Setzer...?"

"Yes, yes! Oh, Daryl...OW!" Setzer yelled as he doubled up in agony; Daryl had given him a good swift kick in the gut.

"You _loser!!!_" Daryl screeched while raining another and yet another blow upon the writhing Setzer. "What was the big idea, leaving me all alone in that horrible place?! Huh?! Oh, sure, take my Falcon but leave _me_ behind, why don't you!"

"But...but...I thought you were dead!" Setzer protested, tears--whether from pain or joy, no one knows--streaming down his scarred face.

"Jerk! Yeah, I crashed, all right, but I didn't die! You think a stupid thing like a measly airship crash was gonna do _me_ in? Still, my ship was busted up pretty good, and there wasn't a town to be seen. I had to rough out my life on that stupid island for almost a year. I needed lots of supplies to start fixing my ship, and Triangle Island doesn't have a lot or natural resources. I nearly got eaten up by those frackin' Intangirs about a million times, but I eventually got enough stuff to begin rebuilding my ship. But then _you_ just had to come along with your idiot Blackjack and take everything and put it in your stupid tomb, me along with all of it!"

"Wha-at?" Setzer gaped, his eyes wide with panic and pain.

"Setzer, here's some advice: _look_ through the wreckage of an airship before you have it all stuffed away, okay?! Since the cabin was all damaged, I always slept by wrapping myself up in the canvass of the balloon--it kept me warm and dry. I was sleeping peacefully, all cozy and peaceful, when you came along and put me away!"

"I didn't know! I never saw you!!"

"Well then, smart guy, what was that large lump in the middle of the freakin' canvass, huh? What'd you think that _was?_"

"I thought that it was a rock! Triangle Island is very rocky, you know. I just thought the canvass was draped over a large stone, that's all! But why didn't I see you when I was down in that bottom room, fixing up the ship?"

"Because the moment you put all that stuff down there, I split! I was terrified, you moron! And then when you finished it, I thought I'd make my escape, but nooo! You just _had_ to lock the door leading to that basement! And you just _had_ to lock the front door of the tomb! I was trapped! Damn it, I've been living down in that stupid place for years, drinking that yucky turtle-infested water and eating monsters for food! While you were gorging on fine wine and pasta, Setzer, I was eating Mad Oscars! Do you _know_ what those things taste like?! Well, I..." Daryl didn't complete her sentence; she broke down into tears and began pummeling Setzer over and over again in a blind fury.

"Oh, _schiaffi graziosissimi!!_ _O mio felice amor!! _(Oh, most gracious blows! Oh, my happy love!) I'm so sorry, Daryl! _Perdono, perdono!_ You don't know how I've missed you so!_"_ Setzer sniffled through his tears, getting up painfully to his feet when Daryl had exhausted her rage.

"Setzer..." Daryl cautioned, her eyes still blazing, but her breathing becoming a bit more labored as she put one hand to her chest. Setzer grinned; Daryl had a secret weakness, and that was when he spoke Italian to her. Of course, back then he had not truly known how to speak the language, but luckily Daryl didn't know one word of a foreign language, so she never noticed the difference.

"_Oh, bella! Pace, mio tenero amor. Io conobbi la voce che adoro e che impressa ognor serbo nel cor..._um..._vino, linguini, mozarella..."_ Setzer purred in his most seductive voice as he slowly wrapped his arms around Daryl, whose eyes were rolling slightly back into her head and gasping for breath, and started massaging her almost bare back with one hand while he used his free hand to wipe away the grime from her face with a hankie.

"Oh, Setzer, I'm sorry for all those horrible things I said," Daryl murmured, swooning under his irresistible embrace and Italian, "I was just so scared after living for so long down there...I didn't mean a word."

"_Cognosco_(I know)," Setzer absolved; he pulled her even closer and then pressed his mouth up hungrily up against hers, bending her body back with the intensity of his kiss. Setzer was a knock-out kisser; even Edgar couldn't compare with him. Daryl nearly swooned right then and there in his arms, murmuring his name against his lips as she ran her fingers through his long silver hair.

After about ten minutes or so, the two finally broke their kiss, but they still held each other tightly.

"Have you treated my Falcon nicely over the years?" Daryl asked, her voice barely audible.

"Certainly, _cara(_dear)_._ You know that I would never allow something so precious to you to be mistreated! Come, let me show you," Setzer grinned, taking her arm and leading her to where the airship was parked.

"Still a beaut," Daryl sighed as she gazed upon her beloved ship.

"Yes, a beaut," Setzer concurred, wrapping an arm around her waist and whispering into her ear with his most amorous voice. "Daryl, there's a bottle of Chianti and some tiramisu in the cabin, and there's some spare clean clothing I can get you, some reeealy sexy dresses..."

"You big hunk of burnin' Italian love!" Daryl squealed happily as Setzer swung her up into his arms and carried her up into the airship. "You certainly know how to make a gal feel wanted!"

For about two hours, if a person was standing outside the airship, he would have heard no sounds at all. But suddenly, two voices penetrated the silence as Daryl and Setzer, both slightly disheveled and very looking very pleased with themselves, came out onto the deck.

"Say, whatever happened to the Blackjack, Setzer? You loved that thing more than anything in the world," Daryl asked.

"When Kefka fried the world, that horribly dressed bastard broke it," Setzer sighed, his eyes turning sad and face flushing with shame. "And it got scattered in about twelve hundred pieces. Some of them got sold at the auction house in Jidoor, but...a little snot-nosed kid with a rich daddy always outbidded me! Those babies sold for a million GP each! It was _my_ ship, dammit! If the little twerp was gonna take my beloved Blackjack, he should at least have paid _me._"

"Oh, Setzer, that's so sad," Daryl sympathized, idly playing with the snazzy ruffles of his shirt. "But...What say we go to Jidoor and take back what's rightfully yours? And perhaps get hitched while we're at it?"

"You mean steal my Blackjack pieces from an innocent yet spoiled little kid?" Setzer inquired slowly, arching an eyebrow; a wide smile surfaced upon his face.

"Hell, yeah! Why not?!"

"That's my Setzer," Daryl beamed, ruffling his hair. 

As the airship slowly left the ground, Daryl's voice cut suddenly through the hum of the engines.

"Hey, Setzer, dear, let me drive, please? This was my ship, you know, and I'd like to fly her again."

"Are you sure you're up to it, Daryl? You haven't flown for a long time, and you just had five goblets of wine..."

"Bah! I'm one of the greatest airship captains in the world! Step aside, Setz, and watch a pro at work!" Daryl's voice scoffed.

For a few seconds, the airship's flight was just as steady and smooth as ever; however, the craft soon began to swoop and dive precariously, performing all sorts of crazy and radical tricks.

And then, suddenly, the airship, which was now soaring above the sea, started careening for the glassy blue depths below.

****

"D

A

A

R

R

Y

** L**

L!"

SPLLOOSH!!

The Falcon fell into the sea, and both Daryl and Setzer were killed instantly. The end.

Chapter Nine: the _REAL_ Ending

Ha ha! Of course that's not the end! I just wanted to see if you people were paying any attention or not. Now that I've shocked you awake, we can go back to our real story! Here's what _really_ happened:

Although they did crash into the sea, both Setzer and Daryl managed to swim ashore; unfortunately for them, the nearest land was Triangle Island. Soon after they got their feet on solid ground, the couple was sucked up by a Zone Eater.

Despite the fact that they were inside a large worm, Gestahl's old living place was actually quite charming. So charming, in fact, that Setzer and Daryl decided that they'd like to live there forever! With a few throw pillows here, a nice little dab of Monster-B-Gone Monster Repellent there, and the place was a regular dream house.

Setzer and Daryl still live within the Zone Eater to this day. They have seventeen children, all who are terrible gamblers and horrible pilots. 

The Gabbiani family does often emerge from their home in order to go to town (Setzer and Daryl had to fly, in a new airship reconstructed of the washed up remains of the Falcon, all the way to Jidoor to get married), to see the opera, and visit their friends--Edgar with Terra and their five little royal munchkins with about twenty other adopted kids, Locke and Celes with _their _brood of three children, and all of the others. All in all, the Gabbiani clan is alive and happy and well, and the kids will soon be old enough to go off on their own--if they can tear themselves away from the Zone Eater, that is.

But, as of late, Daryl, to her husband's infinite chagrin, seems to have forsaken her snazzy clothing for wearing brightly colored shrouds. 

Heck. If _you_ had been through an airship crash and then buried alive, you'd have a few screws loose, too.

FINIS

_Someday, I hope to win an award for Most Idiotic Fic Ever Written. I'm also thinking of marketing some Setzer-Smasher 2000's. They'd sell like hotcakes, wouldn't you agree?_


End file.
